Glee  The British Version
by Neohctuh
Summary: An adaptation of Glee which sets the story in an area of the UK, rather than in Lima, Ohio. Rated T for drug use, swearing and adult topics. All feedback welcomed


**Glee - The British Version**

**(Author Note: If Glee was a British show, we all know that it'd be full of sex, drugs and drama. So in these fics, I intend to twist the story lines to fit the British scenario. All character names are the same, and there's only a few _slight_ changes to make the story fit. All of the "ships" will potentially stay the same, with minor alterations based on my own preferences. I do not own any of the Glee characters etc, and any feedback would be much appreciated.**

**Since the pilot was actually bigger than I thought it was to put in to one chapter, the start of the pilot will act as the prologue)**

**0. Prologue**

* * *

><p>It's a bleak day in High Wycombe, but it's a new start at Morgan McKinley. On the drive up to the run down school, William Schuester spots Coach Sylvester pushing her cross country squad to their limits around the old, faded running track, that takes up most of the school's sorry excuse for playing fields. She's shouting abuse at them, and as usual, faculty turn a blind eye to it; she's making the school money, whether people will admit it or not. Schuester parks his car, turns off the ignition and sighs. Resting his chin on the steering wheel, he peers out the dusty windscreen and takes in his surroundings. Nearby, most of the football team are arriving, but not before stopping at the shabby gates of the school, and putting out their cigarettes on the brick wall that runs up the equally shabby street. Schuester watches as a smaller boy, clutching his satchel nervously, walks towards the footballers. He can see the fear on the boy's face; he's obviously been dreading this day. Sure enough, the boy approaches the team, and before he's even five inches near him, the team are swooping round him. They grab his bag, and it's promptly thrown on the floor. The boy protests, as usual, but the team laugh and throw onto the gates roughly. Schuester <em>knows<em> he should be getting out to help, or do something. But he can't bring himself to get out of the car. Four minutes in, and the guilt's already piling up. He sighs again, yanks the keys out of the ignition, pockets them, and leaves his car.

It's not different inside the building; three girls are standing over another girl, who's on the floor, and looking up at the trinity in horror. The girls are in matching tracksuits, and each have tatty ties around their necks. There's two blondes and a dark haired girl; their hair's pulled back and tied in a tight pony tail, and they're all taking some sick pleasure watching the girl cower on the floor. She looks up as Schuester approaches, and the trinity turn to meet Schuester's eyes. They're waiting for him to challenge them, like last time. Last time, he didn't sit right for a week. All he can do is look at them dissapprovingly, and the girl on the floor loses all hope. The trinity smirk, as Schuester pushes past them, and retreats to his classroom, while the girls resume their berating of the girl. That's another pile of guilt he's got to deal with this year. Great.

He's the Spanish teacher, and he's a good Spanish teacher. How he ended up teaching on the local estate is beyond him. But he's here, and he's determined to do a good job. He takes pride in his work, and commits himself to the lessons. Even if his students don't. Most of the time, they just stare back at him, like he's foreign. He should've guessed by now that if he's not speaking English, they're not paying attention. He rattles off a few sentences in Spanish expertly, but the class aren't listening; two of the three girls he saw earlier, are still watching their victim like a hawk. The third is draped around one of the footballers, who's staring blindly into space, while his friends are also watching their victim: the boy from the school gates. The fear is still clear on his face as he keeps his focus fixed on his textbook; he's not reading it, he just wants to avoid eye contact. The boy in the wheel chair isn't in today, Schuester notices, but apart from that, there isn't anything out of the ordinary. This is everyday school life.

The lesson drags on, but at lunch, Schuester escapes to the staff room, where the rest of the staff are sheltering from the animals they've been trying to teach all morning. They're all in the same boat, as nobody at this school is particullary keen to do well. He joins Emma Pilsbury at their usual table. Coach Sylvester is sitting there too, and she's just as bad as the kids when it comes to insulting her peers. Currently, she's mocking Pilsbury, who's freaking out; she has some sort of illness where she's paranoid all the time. Schuester doesn't remember what. All he knows is that he likes what he sees on Pilsbury, and if he totally wasn't married...

"Hello Schuester. Did you have a shit summer?"

Sylvester has started early this year. Schuester glares at her, and ignores the question. Pilsbury looks down, and she won't say anything until Sylvester leaves; too paranoid about being dragged in to an argument. Sylvester stares hard at Schuester, and turns back towards Pilsbury:

"So, did you hear about Ryerson?" she questions Pilsbury, who looks up at Sylvester nervously. She nods, and Sylvester continues:

"Fiddling with one of the kids. One of the boys too. It wasn't a surprise really. That man had fag written all over him" she comments, tapping her fingers on the table, awaiting a reply from one of her collegues. Pilsbury is still nodding, and Schuester is in different, he supposes. Ryerson wasn't that great a teacher anyway. Sylvester groans, and stands up:

"You two are the shittest company ever." she spits and heads towards the door. She grabs the handle and turns it sharply before storming out of the door. Not even five seconds go by before she's shouting at some of the kids. Fortunately the doors shouts and drowns out the din. Schuester turns his attention back to Pilsbury, who's finally got the nerve to speak:

"Figgins is asking for you, by the way Will," she says quietly, "I think he wants you to take over the Glee Club.". Schuester groans:

"Only because I'm the only teacher here with any musical experience."

"But you'd be perfect for it Will. All the musical stuff you said you did..."

"Look, Emma. I never intended to teach the Glee Club. Especially not in a... _shit hole _ like this." he says, and meets Pilsbury's eyes. Oh yeah, he'd totally nail her. If he could. Pilsbury breaks the contact and looks down at her lunch,

"Regardless, he's still looking for you." she states, and that's the end of the conversation. He stares at her, sighs, and leaves.

* * *

><p>So she got him sacked. That's one... good thing, she supposes, she's managed to do this year. She got that bastard sacked. Rachel Berry walks down the hall triumphantly, clutching her folders to her chest and she manouvers the crowded halls. She jumps as a horny couple push infront of her and crash into the lockers, their lips crashing together violently. They're practically having sex, but the school won't do anything about, and Rachel knows that too well. She looks at the couple in disgust, and moves on, towards her own locker. It's decorated with pictures of Broadway and West End stars (mostly Barbarra Streisand), and there's a picture of her with her dads positioned in the middle of the locker. And as usual, there's the hate notes which have fallen on to her Maths and English folders. She pulls them out and throws on the floor; why bother reading them when they'll just say the same as the rest. <em>Fucking whore. Slag. Sket<em>. She bites her lip at the thought, and stops herself from crying. She did it earlier, when they towered over her, so she can do it now; Rachel Berry will not cry about being bullied.

She sighs shakily, wipes her eyes, blinks and shuts her locker. She's got a bit of time before her next class, so she decides to head to the auditorium, and just check to see if it's free. She passes the headmaster's office on the way, and through the glass. she can see Schuester arguing with him. She doesn't really care what's going on there; _that _bastard left her stranded this morning, when she clearly needed help. No, don't about that. Positive. Be positive Rachel. She sighs, and wipes her eyes again, and keeps moving towards the auditorium. When she arrives, she can see it's in use, but not properly. She peers through the door and sees them. Quinn Fabray, and her cronies are standing with some of the football players. Quinns' draped around her boyfriend, Finn, who's holding her absently, but secretly checking out Santana. His best friend Puck is using a piece of cardboard to sort lines on the stage, while Santana and Brittany watch eagerly. Puck smiles at them, and grabs Santana's ass; she frowns and shoves him off, before swearing at him heavily. Puck laughs and looks down at the stage, before snorting one of the lines, and blinking afterwards. Santana goes next, and then Brittany before Rachel's seen enough and she leaves the auditorium. Part of her wants to go straight to Figgins and tell him everything she's just seen. But she knows how much trouble that'll bring about. And it's not worth it. It's never worth it in this shit hole.

The bell rings, and she moves towards her class. She's distracted though; there's a new addition to the noticeboard. She's already memorised every notice on it today and she's sure this was is definitely new. It's been hastily written and pinned up in a free space. It's wrinkled and hanging squint, but Rachel investigates anyway, curious. She's expecting it to be some sort of note containing an insult about a specific person, but she's shocked to find it's actually a sign up sheet. Even better, it's for the Glee Club. _A chance to sing._ Rachel smiles, and yanks a pen out of her bag. She writes her name neatly on one of the many blank lines, and notes the time to come and audition. Quickly she looks round before reaching in to her bag once more, and pulling out a small gold star, which she places against her name. She smiles at her work before heading to her class.

* * *

><p>So it didn't go well. It never does. Schuester fakes a laugh at another of Figgins's crap jokes before he shuts the door and swears under his breath:<p>

"It's done," he said, and Figgins smiled, before talking about how the Glee club is _needed_. Just so that the school qualifies for more money:

"Extra-curriculars, William," Figgins explains, "The more children we send to university, the more money the council gives us!". He looks pleased with himself that he's managed to twist Schuester's arm into taking up the position. He's also pretty sure he's thought a full proof way to get more money in their school budget next year. Schuester, no matter how much he doesn't like it, doesn't have the heart to tell Figgins that he's wrong, and that in fact, all of crack theories on gaining funding are wrong. Schuester sighs as he walks back towards his class room, but not before taking a nervous walk towards the noticeboard. Typical. He's pretty sure the first four or five names on the list are legit, but he's pretty sure _Cunt Face _ and _Twat Man_, won't be showing up in the choir room at the end of the day. He decides to keep the list up for the rest of day; it's early yet.

* * *

><p>Rachel's nervous. And she's not usually nervous. But she's never tried out for this sort of thing before. She's sure her voice is good enough, and she's confident about this song. She's the fourth to audition; the black girl from the estate went first and Mr Schuester described her as a "young Aretha Franklin". Rachel was pretty shocked that he even knew who that was; she didn't expect to him to be that <em>knowledgeable <em>about music. After that came the black girl's friend, Tina or that's what Rachel thought she heard the girl stutter. She was surprisingly good too, and Rachel starts to second guess herself a bit; should she even be here. She watches the black girl hug Tina once she's finished and the black girl keeps telling her that she's "got some pipes, gurl", and Tina smiles nervously. Rachel bites her lips and turns to peer through the gap in the curtains. She recognises the guy singing; the school's gay kid. He sounds feminine, but she can't help but feel a bit intimated; he too, sang his song well, and Schuester liked it too. Or as far as Rachel could tell he did. She got the vibe from him that he really didn't want to be here.

Finally, Mr Schuester calls out her name, and the other three watch as she slips through the curtains. She ignores the looks, and focuses on the words rolling around in her head. Before she knows it, she's smiling, and Mr Schuester is standing and clapping. She feels the eyes of her peers on her back, and turns to see them clapping too; at least, Tina is. The other two have slight looks of disgust on their faces, and cross their arms. Mr Schuester calls them all back on to the stage, and tells them they're all in:

"'Fo real?" the black girl asks, "It was 'dat easy to get in?". Rachel looks at her oddly; she can't really understand if the girl is being serious or not. But she suddenly doesn't really care, and before she knows it, she's stepped out of the line and is already spewing a heap of suggestions in Mr Schuester's direction, who smiles and just tells her to calm down. She feels the daggers in her back again, but she shakes them off; this is her chance to shine:

"Easy Rachel," Mr Schuester says, "I promise, we'll do what you guys want to do. Just make sure you're all at rehearsals. How does tomorrow sound?". Rachel nods, and memorises the time instantly, before walking off stage and gathering up her stuff. Tina approaches her, and smiles:

"Y-y-you were really g-good," Tina smiles and touches her arm, before the black girl is barking her name, and she rushes off to join them. Rachel sighs as she's left alone again. Once again, her ambitions have alienated her from people. She feels the tears pushing at the back of her eyes, and she tries to keep them back for as long as she can. A single tear escapes however and rolls down her cheek. It drips on to her folder, and she brushes the wet trail with the back of her. And just like that, Rachel's picked herself up again. With one last look at the stage, she smiles and leaves the auditorium.


End file.
